It’d been a while since I took my morning walk to the lake. I couldn’t remember the last day I did but it didn’t matter, they all ran together. Passing the birds and rabbits I wondered how it felt for them, the new day (surely different than mine, having to forage for food, to worry about dying).

I’d gone to bed at 7:30 and gotten up at 5. Lying there I thought how decadent to fall asleep when the sun’s still out. I’d checked in on Lily and asked her to get off her phone: and Charlotte, who said she’d come in with me so I could read to her…but I must have fallen asleep, or she got distracted, and it didn’t happen.

We were trying to make plans for the two of us to do something special, but she dismissed the idea of camping so I asked her to think about it. And when I asked if she had any ideas she said right away, aquarium. That was strange, but I said alright, tell me more. There’s a place where they have mermaids and you can watch them swim, she said. She found it online. I said OK, we’ll have to look into that. And then I wondered exactly what it was she found online, because swimming mermaids sounds kind of erotic.

The day ended with a vigorous rain and I opened all the windows to bring in the fresh smells, we needed it. I stood in the den looking down at the animal hair on the carpet and didn’t care. I slapped my gut, and felt happy. It was dark outside and I had the place to myself; dinner was done and cooling for when they got home.

May. The week’s half-over already, almost.

Categories: Memoir, musings, parenting, writing

Tags: humor, mid-life crisis, mindfulness, nature therapy, pacific northwest, parenting, short form, William Pearse writer